Free Goddess of Spring by P. C. Cast Page B

opening within a large rock formation mounded near the edge of the lake. As they approached the tunnel, Lina could see that its stone walls had been smoothed and painted with fabulous frescoes depicting gods and goddesses feasting, laughing and loving. But soon the frescoes were swallowed by the darkness within.
    Lina’s throat felt dry. The darkness was like a tomb.
    Demeter’s steps didn’t falter. She marched into the tunnel. When Lina hesitated, she spoke gruffly to her.
    â€œWell, you must come, too. How else will our way be lighted?” the goddess coaxed.
    â€œLighted?” Lina repeated, realizing she sounded like an idiot.
    Eirene sighed. “You are the Goddess of Spring. Use your powers.”
    Lina’s brow knotted.
    â€œListen within, Persephone, ” Demeter enunciated the name carefully. “Your body knows.”
    Ignoring her mounting frustration, Lina concentrated. Light. If she could make light, how would she do it? Think! she told herself. A half-formed idea flitted through her mind. She lifted her right hand to the level of her eyes. It was a lovely hand. The color of new cream, it was smooth and unlined—unlike her own, well-worn forty-something-year-old hand. If she could create light, she would do it like she had done so many other important things in her life—with her hands. And suddenly she knew. She turned her hand, palm up and cast a simple thought down her arm.
    I’ d like light, please.
    With a perky snapping sound, a little globe of brilliance popped from her palm to hover inches above her hand. Enormously pleased with herself, she smiled past the light and into Demeter’s eyes.
    â€œThat’s how I’d make light.”
    â€œWell done, Persephone,” Demeter said. The goddess nodded in the direction of the seemingly bottomless tunnel.
    Squaring her shoulders, Lina stepped forward, leaving the ball of light hovering in the tunnel behind them.
    â€œYou must command it to stay with you,” Demeter said.
    The goddess was standing within the edge of darkness, so Lina couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought Demeter might actually be laughing.
    â€œWell, come on! Keep up with me,” Lina told the light. Immediately it burst forward, almost hitting her head. Lina jerked back, squinting at its brightness. “With me, not on me.” She whispered to the glowing ball, and it settled into a spot just above her right shoulder. “Up higher, you’re blinding my eye.”
    The ball rose a few inches.
    â€œRight there. Good job.” The light seemed to wriggle in pleasure at her compliment, which made Lina grin at it. “Okay, we’re ready,” she told Demeter.
    The three of them started forward, this time with Lina and her light leading the way. The tunnel was large and its downward grade was steep, but the walls around them changed very little. The colorful frescoes decorated the dim expanse, appearing incongruous with their bright cheer in the midst of such utter darkness. Lina was just about to ask Demeter who had painted the scenes when the walls around them fell away, leaving only unending darkness in their place. Directly in front of them a grove of trees materialized from the blackness. Lina stared at them.
    â€œGhost trees,” she whispered in awe. That’s what they looked like. Though their branches were thick and filled with leaves that appeared to be thriving and healthy, they were white—trunks, limbs, leaves—all the color of milk. They fascinated Lina. Their beauty was unearthly and delicate, and they appealed to her senses at a deep and elemental level.
    â€œIt is through this grove that you will find the entrance to the Underworld.” Then Demeter raised her voice, calling into the grove. “Eurydice, come forth!”
    Lina felt her stomach tighten with nerves. She was just about to meet her first dead person. No! She had to quit thinking about them as “dead,”